Twelve Days of Christmas: The Bloom County Moose Lodge Christmas Party
by Brightness Wordweaver
Summary: Someone has spiked the punch. Opus is about to take a dive. Milo and Binkley are the only ones sober enough to notice.


A/N: Welcome to Day Seven of my Twelve Days of Christmas ficathon! Each day will be a different fandom, so check out the full list on my profile. Today's loose prompt: seven swans a-swimming.

If you're not familiar with Berkely Breathed's 80s comic strip "Bloom County", this may not make a lot of sense. Look it up, though-it's weird but good.

...

Someone had spiked the punch at the Bloom County Moose Lodge Christmas party. No one was sure who had done this, but it had been done, and that was enough.

Milo Bloom and Michael Binkley, erstwhile waiters and hors d'oeuvres distributors for the evening, were not the mystery punch spikers, but they were perhaps responsible, through their efficient beverage distribution, for the rapidly declining state of the party. No one really cared, least of all the two boys, who claimed seats in the corner to watch the entertainment.

Milo's grandfather the Major was regaling anyone who would listen with epic tales of his heroic exploits in battling Commie ducks and the ever-encroaching Red Menace. Those who knew him well might have recognized the latter foes as the cockroach liberation front infesting the boarding house, which had been engaged in guerrilla warfare with the Major for years. He conveniently omitted the species of the Red Menace, however, and the details of his victories grew bloodier and more glorious in direct proportion to the youth, feminity, and blondness of his listeners.

Otis Oracle, president of the local Moral Majority chapter, was yelling to a small, semi-attentive circle about the moral turpitude of the local record shop. Milo kept an eye on him-Otis was known to shed clothing when extremely drunk, and Milo, being underage, was also one of the party's few dependable bouncers.

Hodgepodge and Portnoy seemed to be attempting to dance, but from Milo's vantage point it looked more like they were imitating an arthritic contortionist act with several broken toes. Portnoy had a lampshade over one foot, which wasn't helping matters. Hodgepodge appeared to be unable to see. At least, that would explain how he had ended up wearing the mushroom casserole and Mrs. Carterhip's left sock.

Steve Dallas was making a nuisance of himself. This wasn't unusual behavior for ol' Steve, so at first it was hard to tell he was drunk just from that. However, even he wasn't usually dumb enough to try dancing the macarena on top of a bar stool to "Last Christmas". A few semi-sober onlookers were taking amused bets on what body part he would injure in his inevitable fall, but Bobbi Harlow, presumably the intended audience of his stunt, was not among them.

A casual wandering of the eye revealed her to be out on the dance floor with her actual boyfriend, Cutter John. Most men in Bloom County would've assumed that being confined to a wheelchair meant their dance-floor days were over. Anyone who had been run over by the Aluminum Falcon knew that Cutter John was of a rather different mindset.

"Where's Opus? I haven't seen him," Binkley said, nudging Milo in the ribs. "He can't have gone home; we haven't run out of herring yet."

Milo peered through the gathering haze around the room. "I don't see him. Wait a minute..." He looked up. Opus, despite being a flightless bird, had somehow managed to get up into the rafters. He was shouting something, but the sound was lost in the raucous noise of the floor-level partygoers.

"Should we be concerned?" Binkley asked, following Milo's gaze.

"Not yet." Opus swaggered drunkenly to the end of a rafter and took a swan dive. "Well, maybe now."

Both boys hopped from their seats and ran to catch the plummeting penguin. Both missed. Luckily, Opus landed in the punch bowl, rather than on the floor. This had the dual positive effect of breaking his fall and splashing the rest of the punch onto the floor, where it could do no further harm to anyone's brain chemistry.

Milo and Binkley looked at each other, mutually contemplating the pros and cons of fishing Opus out.

"That can't be food safe," Binkley offered.

"On the other hand," Milo countered, gesturing at the Moose Lodge hall, "a penguin in the punch is really the least of the problems here."

Binkley shrugged and muttered "true".

"For instance," Milo said, having just spotted trouble, "Steve is starting to make a scene." This was no less than the truth; the lawyer had abandoned his dance performance and was about to make a more direct attempt on Bobbi Harlow's attention.

"I'll get Steve if you get Mr. Oracle later," Binkley offered.

"Deal."


End file.
